


The Way He Looks at Me

by Malind



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Love, Lust, M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: Their journey well on the way to reclaim what they'd lost, Thorin can't help but notice the differences in Kíli.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been reading this pairing for quite a while and could no longer resist writing something about them. XD

A set of eyes shouldn’t have been so distracting. But those very eyes, they kept their off and on stares as the Mountain King used steady strokes to sharpen his broadsword with well-practiced ease that late evening.

Admittedly a bit unnerved, the couple of times Thorin could no longer resist the urge to return the stare, his nephew's eyes had already fallen back on the group of dwarves and the hobbit and wizard. Those couple of times, Thorin had let Kíli’s merriment soothe his taunt body back into a relative slackness as the group carried on with pipesmoke, alcohol, and lively jabber around the small fire that waffed the scent of fresh, sizzling boar meat.

However, despite how Kíli seemed to be able to hide away his stares in face of their kin, whenever Kíli looked at him, Thorin felt something far different crawl up his back on pinned feet.

But this night wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Kíli’s hard, but secretive stares. That in itself confused Thorin. Such unwelcome traits had never been a part of Kíli before this journey.

Before, his nephew's face had always been filled with mischief and humor and sureness. A large portion of Thorin’s smiles had always come directly from those very traits of Kíli’s. And, before they’d acquired their burglar, Kíli had been filled with a contagious sense of adventure. His every enthusiastic movement, his every word had spoken of it.

Now, well, Kíli’s words and actions still spoke of it, for the most part. But now...

Now there was also something far different underneath everything, something almost worn-out. At least only when it came to Thorin, it seemed. The second in line to the throne could barely even meet Thorin’s eyes these days.

Thorin could only assume Kíli’s looks were some sort of ill-fitted but nonetheless consuming worry. What else could they be?

If only he could make the lad not feel such things. This time together, this journey was their fate, their reclaiming of what they’d lost. This time was far from being sorrowful or drenched with worry.

Tell that to Kíli…

Feeling yet another stare, Thorin could no longer simply dismiss it and carry on as if nothing was bothering his sister’s son. Thorin’s body grew hard from a tension that shouldn’t have been there, not amongst these dwarves he loved so dearly, Thorin blew out a light sigh from tight, almost sealed lips. One more time, he ran the length of his sword over the whetstone resting on the smooth outcrop, his fingers slightly slick from oil. Then he rose his gaze with an almost jerking motion.

This time, Kíli didn’t have time to look away. Instead, when their gazes met, Kíli’s eyes widened slightly as his jaw dropped to crack open his mouth. Then, the lad’s head jerked away to stare out at the distance instead. With that abrupt withdrawal, it was then that Thorin realized how hard and unyielding his face probably was.

The Mountain King had seen himself in a mirror before with such a look, and he had no doubt it was why children often cried in his presence. Not that he ever meant to be scary. Somehow, his face just took on a fierceness without even trying, without the accompanying emotions.

Resting his sword down the rock, Thorin sighed and rotated his shoulders, trying to work out the unease of his body, as well as inside. Then, damn him, that dwarf looked right back and riled him right back up, this time bringing a dizziness to swarm his head.

This time, when Thorin glared with his easy frown, he also added, “Come, Kíli. Walk with me,” so Kíli couldn’t easily escape Thorin’s attention. Then Thorin stood up and fought to walk straight even through his dizziness, not giving Kíli the chance to disagree with him.

This needed to be settled before battle came upon them. Whatever this was, it distracted both of them to a fault. In turn, it had a good chance of getting someone killed and that death wasn’t about to be Kíli’s. Not considering the vengeful deaths would follow because he loved his nephew with all his heart, a heart which would then crumble to dust and then be taken away on the slightest breeze.

The jeering and laughter died a bit at Thorin’s departure. That allowed Thorin to hear Kíli stumble upright, stepping over dwarves who grunted at Kíli’s apologies.

Annoyingly frustrated with the young dwarf, his head now steady with adrenaline, Thorin stalked with a fierce pace until the conversations began to dim. Then, when his breaths deepened from his exertion, he slowed and allowed Kíli to catch up to him. Then he stopped completely.

Quiet booted footstep came to a standstill behind him. After a marked pause, Kíli nearly whispered, “Uncle, what is it? Have I done something?”

That drew a smile from Thorin. One of Kíli’s best and worst traits was his desire to please those around him. That alone, never mind everything else, was surely going to get his nephew killed one day. And, if not killed, then at least brought to absolute misery. Trying to please everyone was a exhausting ordeal that had no chance of succeeding. It wasn’t a trait Thorin should have coveted in his possible heir, but he did anyway as it proved kindness and selflessness still existed in the world. And he wanted that from Kíli as he wanted few things.

When the King under the Mountain turned around, the smile was still there. He couldn’t get rid of it, even when faced with interrogating the relatively young dwarf.

When their eyes met, a slow smile spread over Kíli’s face. “You had my nearly pissing my trousers, uncle. I thought you were about to beat me for a crime I can’t quite pinpoint.”

Thorin’s smile grew warmer. _This_ was what he had missed over the last few days since employing the hobbit. But, he also knew he couldn’t let those days be forgotten. Whatever was bothering Kíli, it had to be dealt with and tonight if he was to get any sleep. “I have noticed your unease as of late. Tell me what troubles you so that we may conquer it together.”

After the first sentence, Kíli had lost his smile. After the second, his mouth had opened, but no words came out. Then he looked away again, then to the ground. Then, against all logic and upbringing, the lad’s face tinged pink. And it must have been a dark color of pink for Thorin to have seen it in the darkness.

At that point, Thorin could only frown his absolute confusion. What could have possibly been wrong? This couldn’t have just been mere worry. Worry didn’t bring a blush to a grown dwarf’s skin.

His breath almost heavy, Kíli met his eyes again, his weight shifting as if he was readying to bolt. And Thorin realized he was preparing to do just that. Kíli hacked something that barely resembled a laugh. “You mustn’t trouble your mind over nothing. I’m just tired, uncle.”

“I fail to remember a even moment when you claimed to be ‘tired’, even as a child. Well, especially as a child.”

“But I am,” Kíli blurted out as he began to turn back around. “In fact, I don’t feel well at all. If you don’t mind, I’m going to lie down.” At the end of the words, he abruptly turned around the rest of the way and started off with long strides.

Thorin matched them and grabbed his nephew’s upper arm, forcing him to a halt that sent rocks out in a small spray. Kíli looked back at him, his breath now heavy, his body almost trembling. What in Middle Earth could have possibly been wrong enough to make his outgoing, cheerful, endearing, resourceful, strong-willed nephew act this way?

In a low growl to avoid preying ears, Thorin demanded, “You will tell me this night what is going through your head!”

Kíli huffed with wide eyes, his head shaking slightly. Then, his brows curved downwards as he blurted out just a bit more loudly, “You think you want to know what is in my head? What has been in my head all of these years? You don’t! And I’ll never tell you. So you can let me go right now so that we can forget this conversation.”

All of that said, Kíli tried to rip his arm out of Thorin’s grip, but the Mountain King wasn’t having it. “Hear me, child of my sister, you will not walk away from me. Not this night. Not ever.”

Trembling breaths left Kíli’s parted lips and his face scrunched up as his eyes glistened with water in the starlight. “I would never walk away from you, uncle. Never. I only mean to sleep.”

Throin took a step towards his nephew, bringing up his other hand to cup the dwarf’s stubbled cheek. “Tell me, for both of our sakes, what is wrong. Then, you can sleep or do whatever else you wish.”

Kíli’s hand reached up abruptly and gripped Thorin's hand, harshly, making Thorin cringe even in his surprise. “Uncle...” Then Kíli forced both of their hands down to rest between their stomachs and took a step forward of his own so that they were almost chest to chest. “Please, just let me go to sleep. I cannot lie to you.”

“Lie? Why would you have to lie to me? Our bond is so much stronger than that.”

“It is.” Kíli shook his head, staring into Thorin’s eyes with a begging Thorin couldn’t ignore. “Because I love you. Far too much. And, in the hobbit’s home, I came to realize just how much. Because I am faced with the all too real possibility of losing you. I never thought that could happen. Ever. I couldn’t even conceive of it.”

So was this all truly only worry then?

Thorin let out a breath in a great sigh. “Your worry shall be the death of me, Kíli. You mustn’t put your mind into such things. Not when the future has so clearly chosen this path for us. The world has given us an abundance of signs. To not take them to heart is to forfeit our future.”

“Uncle… I know these things. And that is why I’m with you. I would see our family restored.” His mouth opened to continue but then he merely shook his head before his forehead fell forward, coming to rest on Thorin’s shoulder. “But, forgive me. I cannot control my heart any more than I can cease my breaths by choice.” His head turned so that his heated, moist breath hit Thorin’s neck. So quietly, so that Thorin almost couldn’t hear him, Kíli said, “Do you think there is a god in existence who could forgive me for what I want?”

Bewildered by those words, they left Thorin wondering if perhaps Kíli hadn’t meant him to hear. Unsure either way, his heart thumped at Kíli’s unfamiliar heat and closeness. Thorin couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so close to him outside of a quick comrade's embrace. But he wouldn’t allow his thoughts to go further than that, not when that train of thinking had to be so far off course that the result would become the very definition of absurdity.

Trying to make sense of Kíli in any other possible way since Thorin’s mind apparently wanted to go down impossible paths, he whispered back, “What do you want?”

Kíli shivered, a trembling of his whole body that made Thorin want to embrace him, to stop it. He listened to that impulse, releasing Kíli’s upper arm and wrapping his arm around his nephew, trying to offer comfort how ever he could, still committed to ending this, whatever this was, that night.

“What do I want...” Kíli breathed. His head shifted slightly. Soft lips touched Thorin’s neck. He was sure they were lips because they opened slightly to kiss his stubbled skin under his beard. It was as intimate as a lover’s kiss.  Such a thing, Thorin hadn't felt for years.

But no, that couldn’t be Kíli’s intention. It just couldn’t. Or perhaps he was just imagining Kíli’s lips that moved again with the tenderness of rose petals and sent a fire straight through him. “Kíli...”

At the breathy name, Kíli became bolder, pressing more fully against him, sucking on the skin that was already moist. And then Thorin felt it, an undeniable hardness at Kíli’s groin that threatened to undo everything Thorin knew and believed in.

The Mountain King jerked backward, grabbed Kíli’s face to stare at him, searching, trying so hard to find the truth beyond the obvious one. When he couldn’t find it, he bolted back another step and let him go, saying, “Go to sleep, Kíli.”

The younger dwarf’s stricken face almost undid Thorin as much as the embrace and kiss had. But no, no, this wasn’t possible. This wasn’t what Kíli wanted. Something, somewhere, somehow this had all gone so horribly wrong. And he had to figure out how he was going to fix it. But that could never, ever happen with Kíli staring at him so.

“Go!” Thorin growled out, just bordering on getting loud.

Kíli stared wide-eyed at him for a moment longer, his body visibly trembling, his breaths uneven, shaky pants. Then he did turn around and left, just as Thorin had demanded, leaving the Mountain King to wonder if it’d been even remotely the right thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the changes in the tags and rating.

Left alone to the darkness, Thorin couldn’t remove his gaze from Kíli’s every ridged movement. His nephew stalked back to camp, immediately picked up his bed roll, tossed it to the ground and plopped himself upon it, effectively disappearing from Thorin’s view behind the bodies of other dwarves. Through every moment of it, Thorin’s anguished heart thudded in his ears, ringing them. And because of Kíli. Kíli, the one whom Thorin had thought could only ever bring easy smiles to his face and pleasure to his heart. The one whom Thorin knew loved him as he loved Kíli.

But what had just happened... That wasn't love. This was, what? Misguided lust? He didn't know. And by sending Kíli off, he hadn't given himself a chance to find out.

Ignoring the camp’s occasional peeks and stares, Thorin stared off into the dark expanse of trees as if they could possibly have answers to this... predicament.

In the end, the darkness had no answers for him. It took several minutes before the Mountain King could understand that and calm himself down enough, at least outwardly, to re-enter the camp. He sat back down to sharpen his sword, never mind that it had already been sharpened for some time.

Immediately after the coldness of stone ran up his backside, despite his struggle to resist him, Thorin's gaze was drawn right to Kíli. His nephew was sitting there, his chin on his knees, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, looking so lost that Thorin wanted to go to his side. Instead, still not knowing how to deal with what had just happened, Thorin forced his gaze to the sword in his hands and tried to act as if something inconceivable hadn't just happened. As if something wasn't so fundamentally wrong with his relationship with his beloved nephew.

How could he have not noticed that wrongness before this day?

As various, more muted conversations continued on amongst the group, it took less than minute to notice a different set of eyes on him. This time, when Thorin raised his eyes, it was Fíli who frowned at him while pushing at the almost cooked meat with a stick. But the older brother would only keep his gaze for a moment before his eyes flickered to Kíli and then back to the fire.

Did Thorin's heir know what had happened? Surely Kíli and he had been far enough away to avoid eavesdropping.

...Or had Kíli said something to his brother before that night? The mere thought made Thorin's gut turn over. Who'd known about this? Did everyone know? His humiliation burned at the possibility of being so utterly blind.

Thorin stared at his blade, barely feeling hard muscles loosening and contracting with every sure movement over the stone. A short time later, barely hearing the voices around him, after wiping his hands on a rag, he accepted a stick of boar meat with a dim thank you. The meat barely had flavor but he nonetheless sucked his fingers clean that still tasted dimly of blacksmith oil. And, all the while, he wished with everything in him, for everyone's sake, that he hadn't been so disturbingly blind. For years, apparently.

After all of the meat and the minimal assortment of rooted vegetables had been consumed or stored away, most of the party brandishing full bellies, wanting to get an early start, the group shifted to their places on the ground. Thorin grabbed his own roll. He hesitated a moment before he took his usual place next to Kíli, the lad's back to him, Fíli on his brother’s other side. Soon, a couple of snores filled the air. Thorin couldn't close his eyes though. And that was not because of the snores. No, he was quite used to those. Rather, he couldn’t even find a hint of tiredness because Kíli so close to him that he swore he could feel the dwarf's heated body in the chilly night. Eventually, Thorin twisted his back to the younger dwarf but that added no benefit.

The hours that followed, sleep failed Thorin. In fact, he doubted either he or his nephew closed their eyes beyond pretending considering the way Kíli shifted every ten minutes or so in his bedroll, bringing Thorin’s attention to him again and again. Those hours, well, they were torture because Thorin couldn't bring even a speck of rationality to what Kíli had done. Nor to what Thorin himself had felt when Kíli had done it. And, worse, still felt.

His beliefs and ideals, ones cherished just hours before, screamed he should have been forsaking even just the thought of Kíli against him. But, no matter how much he tried, Thorin couldn't find the ability to be disgusted by any of it, not by his nephew’s words, his closeness, not even his tasting mouth that Thorin swore he could still feel on his neck.

Surely, time should have given him insight. Sheltered him with distance. Dampened the fire inside of him that flourished at every one of the younger dwarf's breaths with Kíli lying next to him as they usually did in what Thorin had always thought of before as kinship. In fact, before that night, Thorin had welcomed that nearness because that had meant he could keep vigil over his sister’s son as he’d promised her he’d do.

Now, time only seemed to make this lust inside of him worse.

Thorin rolled onto his back and blew out a shallow breath. Instantly, Kíli turned his head to him. Thorin stared up at the blinking stars for only a moment before turning his head to study his nephew in the fire’s dim light. The way Kíli looked at him… It was an anguish Thorin had never wanted to see on the lad’s face. He wanted to take that face in his hands again and… what?

Teeth gritting, the Mountain King forced himself to look back up at the sky. “Sleep, Kíli,” he breathed into the quiet night.

 _Just forget this ever happened..._ Thorin didn't know if the thought was for Kíli or for himself. But he knew, either way, there wasn't a chance of forgetting what had happened, at least not that night.

After a quietness, then a trembling breath, Kíli rolled onto his side, his back to Thorin again.

Considering his nephew's unrested breaths, he doubted either of them were blessed with even just a moment of oblivion before dawn came and roused the camp.  Considering everything, they should have been the ones to stand watch that night, but it hadn't been their turn.

The two days that followed as they passed through more forest and plains that offered little protection, Kíli's mood didn't improve, his eyes staring out to nothing or his head downcast, his shoulders slumped, his laughter and jabs absent. It got to the point where surely every dwarf had to have noticed. The more time that passed the more Thorin felt numerous stares on his own person. Even the hobbit started offering some frowns. But no one dared to speak to Thorin. He didn't know if that was because they knew the truth or because they were giving Kíli and himself space to work out their problems. He prayed it was the latter.

...But, if they did know, their accusing eyes were on him, not Kíli. They were obviously protecting Kíli and blamed Thorin for the lad's ills. Or perhaps they were merely seeking Thorin's guidance on the matter. The former idea made more sense to him though, considering a dwarf's ways and beliefs.

On the second evening, Kíli mumbled something about going hunting for the party. When Fíli tried to join him, Kíli said something harsh although Thorin couldn't make out the words and then stalked off into the woods alone. Fíli stared after just as Thorin did. When his heir turned around though, Fíli eyes landed directly on him. Thorin saw the lad's jaw tighten, then his whole body grew hard.

Fíli marched straight up to him. "You must talk to him, uncle. I can't remember a day since we were children that he refused to speak to me. Whatever is going on..."

The relief Thorin suddenly felt must have shown on his face to make Fíli trail off as he did, his quick, urgent words replaced by a scowl. Apparently Fíli didn't know. And if Fíli didn't know then surely the rest of them didn't. If Kíli was going to confide in anyone, it would have been his brother.

"Please, uncle. I-I cannot bear to see him suffer like this."

The relief dissolved into a painful shame. But what was he to do?

If these dwarves had known, could any of them truly believed Thorin could change the lad's mind on this? After all, this was apparently something Kíli had been hiding from him for years.

He couldn't scare it out of Kíli. His heart couldn't bear that. His heart could barely bear what he'd already done.

And to offer comfort, would that only encourage Kíli? Encourage himself since, every moment of every day now held thoughts of his own nephew's touch and he couldn't stop the sinful heat within himself.

Help him, this shouldn't have been on the forefront of Thorin's mind. This shouldn't have even been there at all. Never mind Kíli's occasional hard stares the other evening, this was going to definitely get one or both of them killed. Even the whole party killed.

Fíli was right. This had to be dealt with, but Thorin still didn't have a clue as to how it could be without the confrontation resulting in vastly undesirable consequences.

Either way though, for everyone's sake, especially Kíli's, he still had to try. He gave a short nod. "I'll speak with him," he said, and abruptly turned away with a quick stride in the direction Kíli had entered the forest.

A voice behind him stopped him, "Take this with you, Thorin."

Thorin turned around and took a few steps back towards his horse, towards Gandalf. The wizard had an expression Thorin couldn't read, his face almost blank. But at least Gandalf's body wasn't stiff, nor his jaw clenched or his eyes narrowed. Thorin didn't need any more of that right now.

"Hopefully you'll find use for it. This group's appetite is insatiable," the wizard murmured with a smirk.

Thorin took the bow and quiver handed to him with a weak smile. "Thank you, Gandalf. Keep the fire small. We near the forest's edge and elven lands."

The wizard nodded and then went back to his horse, removing his pipe and pouch from a bag and the rest of the gear he needed for the night.

Strapping on the quiver and securing the bow over his torso, long strides took the Mountain King into the forest. He didn't have Kíli's hunting skills. He already knew that from spending time with the lad in Kíli's youth. The majority of Thorin's time had been spend in chambers giving and receiving council, deciding outcomes, strategizing, not wandering the forest in hopes of finding something bearable to eat. That had always been the jobs of other dwarves, as well as the farmers, to kept their people fed.

Nonetheless, no matter how raw his skills were, Thorin used the skills taught to him by his tutors so long before, tracking with the signs he saw. But, eventually, he had to come to the conclusion that he could have been following the trail of just about any creature that haunted this forest. Even numerous creatures at that. All considering there hadn't been a drop of rain for days.

Nearly a half an hour after entering the forest, Thorin came to a standstill. He listened, but couldn't hear anything that could have resembled footsteps. He looked about, staring at distance and trees that held absolutely no familiarity to him. At least he still knew the direction of the camp, but that would be hindered when the darkness came considering the canopy overhead.

Thorin had almost made a complete circle when his gaze fell upon him. Kíli stared directly at him some distance away, probably following him for who knew how long. But this time, Kíli didn't balk. He merely stared at Thorin, as if daring the dwarf to retreat or to force a retreat from Kíli. For the first time during his rule, Thorin didn't feel the least bit up to the challenge.

How he wished this hadn't been between them. Before, there'd been nothing except love and devotion brought by their kinship. ...At least he'd previously thought so.

A minute later, Thorin found his feet moving towards his nephew. That made Kíli's eyes widen slightly, his breathing grow heavier. And Thorin hated the way his own body got riled up by those things, but also couldn't deny that he now craved them as he hadn't craved anything for far too many years, outside of reclaiming what was still theirs, not matter what the dragon thought.

But couldn't he claim both on this journey?

After he'd thought it, he wanted to strike his own heart. Had he truly come so low to even let that thought enter his mind?

When he was close enough to reach out and touch Kíli, his nephew backed up a step and then another. Thorin followed after for only one of them.

"Kíli..." Thorin's heat, as well as his self-hatred for what he couldn't control, somehow trickled into his voice.

If only he could be sane about this, neutral. But how could he ever hope to be when Kíli watched him so closely with flushed skin and heavy breaths that spoke of at least upheaval, if not a mutual lustful desire?

How could he ever end this, especially when he now realized that underneath all of the reasoning's and beliefs that he wanted it? That he wanted Kíli.

Damn his lust. Where had it even come from?

When he couldn't stand their distance any longer for far too many reasons, he took another step forward, raising his hand to his nephew's cheek. This time, the other dwarf didn't back up.

Kíli let his prickled face be touched, his eyes closing. "Forgive me, uncle. I don't mean to cause worry to everyone. That's why you're here, isn't it?" His hand reached up, gripping Thorin's, this time softly, holding it there against his face. "But know that I'm all right. I'll be back before dark with something to keep us fed."

Those words should have been enough to still Thorin. Why weren't they enough?

Thorin took another step forward, bringing their chests almost together. That forced Kíli's eyes open, his brow furrowing and eyes narrowing slightly in his obvious confusion.

The rational part of Thorin wanted to order Kíli to withdraw, to save himself from whatever madness had overcome his uncle, but Thorin couldn't will his lips to move more than parting to let a heavy breath through. The feel of the lad's heated skin, the way Kíli suddenly trembled slightly under his touch, it all drew him in and wouldn't let go. At least now it wouldn't, now that the shock of knowing Kíli's desires had passed.

So quietly, with truthful warmth, Thorin murmured, "It only takes a moment to forgive you for anything you do, Kíli."

For Kíli to beg for forgiveness... Thorin should have been the one begging, not Kíli. Thorin's own desires were...

...Well, perhaps Kíli's desires weren't so innocent.

Thorin had learned from Dís that Kíli had taken on the occasional lover, although no one Kíli was apparently willing to bring home. Dís and her husband had only found those facts out through whispers that hoped there might eventually be a next in line to the throne. But, so far, neither brother had made anything official, neither seeming to have any immediate interest in continuing the Durin line.

And, on top of everything else so wrong with this, if Thorin was to take Kíli as his lover, half the chance would be lost, especially considering Thorin had no intention of taking a wife. All of these years, all of his hopes had been with his sister and her sons.

Could he really be so selfish to do that to Kíli, to the folk he led? No, he couldn't be that selfish. ...Right?

Well, whether or not he could be, Thorin couldn't allow himself to be.

Forcing his mind to overcome his lust for the sake of their future, Thorin tried to back up, but Kíli grabbed his thick tunic, his fingers scraping bruisingly at Thorin's chest. Nor did Kíli allow Thorin's to take his hand away, instead tightening his grip around it.

"Uncle, please."

Thorin had never before heard this dwarf's voice filled with such fervor, such desire and need. In fact, he'd never heard it before in any dwarf for that matter and especially not directed towards himself. It made Thorin's length begin to harden, despite how he willed it to cease.

"Kíli, we mustn't do this. Do you understand?" To say such a thing... Thorin barely understood himself why they couldn't anymore, even when he knew exactly why.

The words brought a wetness again to Kíli's eyes. Thorin had never, ever wanted to make this dwarf cry, and before this journey, he never had. Kíli had always looked up at him with bravery and adoration, not fear and mere required respect, respect which, before now, Thorin had always thought he'd earned.

Thorin looked over his nephew's face with searching eyes, wanting so much to make all of this right. How had they ended up at this exact same spot again? Were they now doomed to always be here?

Kíli's head shifted forward, pulling on the tunic he had in his hand, now allowing Thorin to retreat without a fight. When Thorin could feel his nephew's heavy breaths on his face, his mouth, Thorin closed his eyes with a swallow. He cursed his own weakness a million times over in those moments before he felt Kíli's mouth brush over his own. The sensation of those soft lips traveled through him, all the way to his toes and fingers and brought out in him an unaccustomed weakness, even as it drew out a strength that made him want to shove Kíli against the nearest tree.

Those lips kissed him, more a caress than anything, encouraging him to respond, to kiss back, to open his mouth. As much as Thorin resisted, his mouth did open when his breaths through his nose made him light headed. Kíli's tongue reached between them, just running over his teeth, bringing out a weak, but growly moan from deep in Thorin's throat.

The older dwarf's hand jerked up, thrusting through Kíli's thick hair to brace the back of his neck, forcing a strong, deep kiss on his nephew. Kíli groaned at the near assault, his own hands releasing Thorin and grabbing him behind him head. Kíli's body as a whole ground against his uncle, bringing out moans in Kíli that absolutely drove Thorin crazy with desire and possessiveness.

The idea that anyone had touched this dwarf before him... He suddenly wanted to destroy them for even daring. He should have claimed Kíli years ago, when his nephew had come of age. He should have recognized in Kíli how far his love had dragged Kíli into this abyss because, now that Thorin was there with him, he never wanted to escape, especially not with Kíli grinding against him, teasing his cock.

Thorin used his grip on the younger dwarf's hair to force his head back and growled, "Get down on the ground."

Breathing small, shaky gusts onto Thorin's face, it seemed to take a moment for Kíli to comprehend the words but then he ripped off his bow and quiver, Thorin following suit.  And then Kili was falling to his knees, his renewed grip around Thorin dragging him down as well, until Kíli was on his back on the leaf and shrub ridden ground. Thorin partially covered the dwarf, raking his hand over the hard, thick length that teased Thorin from underneath Kíli's trousers. Every scrape of his nails over the length drove Kíli's hips up to meet it, making the touch harder, harsher, his head tilting back.

Thorin's own cock strained against the thick cloth of his trousers, but he didn't dare touch it. He couldn't because he feared he'd tear Kíli's clothes off and take him without mercy.

After one more loud moan, Kíli yanked Thorin's head back down with the grip he still had on his hair. He forced a kiss that had them both moan again and grinding, Thorin at Kíli's hip and Kíli against Thorin's hand.

To be against him, to feel him, to taste him, for Kíli to want him so badly, after so many days of unrelenting lust, there was no hope for him. Within a minute, Thorin came hard with a few jerking thrusts, moaning hoarsely into Kíli's mouth. Immediately, he felt a tiredness begin to overwhelm him, but instead of letting it drag him down, he shoved himself onto his knees, Kíli looking at him with a panic. But Thorin ignored it and immediately went to work on unbuttoning Kíli's pants, drawing his hard, damp length out, and sucking it into his mouth. Kíli grabbed his head again, his fingers twining into his hair, his hips jerking upwards and Thorin could taste the saltiness of him all the way to the back of his throat.

Thorin let his nephew use his mouth, resisting with everything in him the urge to gag, not that he was always completely successful. He hadn't done this for far too long, not since that cursed dragon had forced their exile.

Only a few plunges and Kíli was suddenly holding onto his hair tight, coming deep into his throat, not letting him breathe. A moment later, it took a harsh tug on Kíli's hand to get him to release him. Then Kíli was breathing out half apologies, barely able to catch his breath. Thorin silenced them by drawing himself back up the length of his nephew's body and claiming his mouth again, memorizing his taste, the way his tongue shifted against his own, each and every weak moan that entered his mouth.

He kept kissing him, even when Kíli's strength gave out and he merely let Thorin ravish his mouth. Every kiss brought the older dwarf to re-harden more until he was straining against his semen-wet trousers again. He didn't ever want to stop. If only he didn't have a moral's body.

Then, without warning, Kíli's head jerked away, a laugh escaping his reddened, bruised mouth, his hand pressing against Thorin's chest, before he dared to look back. "No wonder why you don't have lovers. You must have exhausted them all to death."

Thorin's brows shot up before smiled with his own short laugh, laying back down against the full length of Kíli's body. "How do you know I don't have lovers?"

"It's not exactly a secret. Everyone keeps hoping for more heirs. People talk far more than I'm sure you'd appreciate. I dare say there's even a song or two about it."

"I doubt I would want to hear them."

Kíli's smile warmed his heart, warmed all of him. How he'd missed his smiles. These past days had nearly killed him. But then, slowly, the smile disappeared.

"What is it?"

"I love you," was whispered as the younger dwarf searched his face.

"Kíli... If only I could explain to you how deeply my love for you runs. I fear you'd run from me."

The smile came back with a vengeance. "Never. I would never run from you."

Thorin smiled until his face pained him. And he kissed his nephew again, and again, among other things, surely well past the point that the group left behind had begun to worry.


End file.
